A Love Like Fireflies

Their work began in earnest on Monday, and they quickly settled into the routine of it. Every morning Imre or Karvaly would drive them down the hill to the central market, where the YES! team would assign them to a work detail of some kind. One day they shelved ancient books in the sepulchral old library, another they fed lambs from bottles at a farm high in the mountains, and one day found them in the pouring rain, trying to free a milk truck of WWII vintage from a deep rut on the way to the orphanage. It was hard but satisfying work, and by mid-summer Pete and Nick were enjoying themselves. Nick had finally decided to ease up on Pete, and Pete had carefully built a wall in his mind around Imre and Karvaly and their ass-licking tendencies.

One late July morning found the two of them, alone, working to rebuild a goat bridge over a small creek. It was cool enough that the work was pleasant, but warm enough that Nick could strip to the waist. Of course, he would strip to the waist in a blizzard, gladly. He and Pete stacked stones in silence, as they did most things these days.

"Hey, Pete," Nick said, finally breaking the silence.

This was the first time he had called Pete by his actual name in several weeks, and it took him a bit by surprise.

"Yeah, Nick?"

"You know, this isn't bad."

"What isn't bad?"

"This whole service thing. I mean, I thought it would be a nightmare, but I actually kind of like it now."

Pete stopped and studied Nick for a moment.

"What changed it for you?"

Nick paused, a 100 pound stone cradled in his arms, the muscles across his entire torso taut.

"I think it was that orphan milk truck couple of weeks ago. We were in the ditch, pushing and yanking on that thing, and all I could think about was how I was getting a great workout. I mean, look at these," and here he flexed a series of muscles that would have blown the top of Mr. Patronus's head off. "But then when we got the truck free, and we rode it to the orphanage, and those kids came up to us to thank us, I mean--shit, that was amazing. I just kind of felt a change in my attitude about this place, and it's kind of been that way since."

Pete was astounded by Nick's thoughtful recounting of the experience. He had no idea that his muscle-headed roommate thought such things.

"Nick, I'm impressed. In spite of your best efforts, your parents may have been right to send you here. You may have grown."

"Well, my lats have grown, and my delts and ..." Nick grinned, flexing his pectorals on alternate sides, making his nipples jump up in turn.

Same old Nick after all.

"Bastard," muttered Pete, and he went back to his stone pile.

Things continued pacifically for the remaining weeks of Pete and Nick's service. By day they worked, and in the evenings there was often a cultural event, usually involving complicated dances to accordion music. Pete found an excuse every Friday evening not to accompany the others to the baths, and so avoided the most fraught part of the experience.

As they completed their final week of service, they had a week of free time ahead of them before they were due to return home. The four guys talked over some ideas for how to spend the week, and they decided on a backpacking trip into the mountains above the city. Imre had described a place where he and Karvaly often spent time late in the summer; they usually were the only ones there, because the weather in the mountains was notoriously unpredictable in August. That sounded ideal to Pete, who was looking forward to some peace and quiet in the wilderness.

There was, however, one thing he was not looking forward to, and on their last Sunday night in the country, as they organized their packs for the hike into the mountains early the next morning, Pete couldn't hold his silence about it any longer.

"Nick?"

"Yeah, Petey?"

"Have you noticed anything ... unusual ... about Imre and Karvaly?"

"Like have they changed their hair or something?"

"No, I mean about the two of them together."

Nick stopped cramming things into his pack for a moment, and looked thoughtful. "What do you mean, together?"

"Well, I've been watching them, and I think they might be together. You know, like a couple. Like gay."

Nick considered this, then nodded as if something had been settled inside him.

"Good for them. Have you seen my socks--the gray ones?"

"Nick, did you hear what I said? I think they're gay, and they're lovers."

"Yeah, I heard you. I know what the word means. And I say good for them."

Pete was dumbfounded.

"But, Nick, they could be on the other side of the hall--right now--doing it."

"Oh god, Pete, will you get a grip? I cannot believe that you are wound up so tight that the very idea that two people might be having sex somewhere in the same time zone as you makes you crazy. Get over yourself."

Pete couldn't think of how to respond to his outburst. He just sank to the bed and sat, looking at Nick.

"I just don't get you," Nick continued. "What is it about sex that freaks you out so much?"

"It doesn't freak me out," replied Pete, defensively.

"Oh the hell it doesn't. You can't stand the idea of those two guys having a little fun together, or anyone else for that matter. Good god, Pete, can't you just have a wank and chill out?"

"I don't do that."

Nick burst out laughing. "Good one. You do it every Tuesday night, when you think I've gone to sleep. You get up out of bed, tiptoe to the corner over there, and then you take it out and beat it for 5 minutes, tops. Then you make this kind of 'Unh! Unh! Unh!' noise--three grunts, never two, never four--and then you mop up your load in a tissue and throw it away somewhere."

Pete was horrified, but Nick continued, warming to his subject now.

"What I don't get is that it never seems to help. You blow a load out of that, I'll admit, impressive piece of meat you got there, but it doesn't help you relax at all. Next morning, you're right back to being the little Puritan."

Pete's face was on fire. He had no idea that Nick knew about his Tuesday night routine. He felt violated. He felt angry.

"Oh, and you're the perfectly adjusted one. Tell me, have you had anything even remotely like normal sex this entire trip, or has it all been flashing your slutty body at dirty old men? Perhaps you should call Mr. Patronus so you can give him a lap dance."

"Fuck you, Petey. I've had more sex since we've been here than you've had in your entire life."

"Oh yeah? How do you manage that?"

"Well you know that pretty girl in the market who sells us those gravel biscuits in the morning? Well, she's been riding the Nick train three days a week--we do it in the back of her market stall while you wait for the bus to take us to work. And that convent on the east end of town? A gold mine. Every week a group of them ships out for a lifetime in a remote village way back in the mountains somewhere, and I've gotten my knob polished by just about every fucking one of them before they get on that bus. They're animals, man--it's like it's the last sex they're ever going to have. Heh, I guess it is."

He paused, smiling at the memory.

"So don't tell me I'm repressed because I haven't jacked off with you watching. I've been plenty busy."

"Ugh. Whatever. I don't need to know. Look, I just don't think I could be in the next tent over as those two churn each other's ass to butter. So, could we please arrange it so that we split them up, and each of us share a tent with one of them?"

"I cannot believe you, Petey. Life offers those two some happiness in this shit hole of a country, and you just want to be sure that you don't have to hear it. Whatever. I wouldn't want you to be offended, so I'll play along. But I get Imre, because if he loses control and tries to cornhole me in the tent he's got the thinner dick. I think Karvaly would tear me a new one."

Nick laughed, reveling in his ability to completely freak Pete out with his casual mention of anatomy.

"Yeah, thanks a lot. I appreciate the support," Pete hissed as he stomped out of the room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning the group of four headed on foot up the road from Imre's grandmother's house toward the trail head about a mile away. It was a beautiful morning, and some of the bitterness of last night's conversation had faded between Nick and Pete. Once on the trail, they walked in single file for several hours in silence. They had lunch, and kept walking. Imre and Karvaly's secret camping site was certainly remote.

It was nearing evening when they finally rounded a bend in the trail and saw the lake. The waning light reflected off the still water, and it was clear they had the entire place to themselves. Tired and sweating, Imre and Karvaly stripped off their clothes and jumped into the lake.

"I do love these guys. Any chance to get naked, they'll take it!" he hooted as he threw his clothes off. He leapt naked into the lake as well.

Pete turned to setting up the camp, hearing the joyful splashing of the other three as they cavorted, nude, in the clear water now ablaze with the colors of sunset.

During dinner Nick dutifully brought up the sleeping arrangements, and everyone agreed to Pete's plan. Moments like this nudged Pete to reconsider his view of Nick, but then he would do something typically arrogant or narcissistic, and Pete would give it up.

Finally, long after darkness had fallen and the fire was dying away, the boys settled into their respective tents. By dim lantern light, Pete observed Karvaly going through his preparations for bed. These seemed to consist of shucking off all of his clothes and sliding, naked, into his sleeping bag. Pete kept his t-shirt and hiking shorts on.

"Good night, Peter," Karvaly said, somewhat drowsily.

"Good night, Karvaly," returned Pete.

But Pete couldn't sleep, and tried for only a few minutes.

"Karvaly?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can I ask you something?

"Of course."

Pete swallowed. This was not an easy topic to start.

"Karvaly, are you and Imre ... um .. you know ... errr--a couple?

"There are two of us, so we are a couple, yes."

"No, I mean couple, as in the sense of two people who love each other."

"We love each other, yes. Imre and I have been best friends for years."

"That's not what I mean. I mean, are you and Imre 'in love' with each other?"

Karvaly was silent for a moment.

"Peter, I am sorry that my English is not as strong as Imre's. Perhaps I do not understand the question you ask me."

"What I'm trying to ask is, are you and Imre ... well ... lovers?"

Karvaly considered this for a moment.

"I love Imre, more than I love anyone else in the world. I have no family, and Imre and his grandmother have given me a home. We are different in many ways, Imre and myself, but that is what makes us friends."

"Different in what ways?"

"Imre is more outgoing than I am, and his sense of humor can often be coarse. I sometimes must remind him to behave himself in public. But those qualities are things I lack, and so we balance each other. That is why I love him."

There was silence in the tent. Then Karvaly spoke again.

"Do you not love Nicholas?"

"What? No! No, I don't love Nick. He only loves himself."

"But when you were sick, on your first night here, he took care of you. Imre and I tried to help him clean you and carry you upstairs, but he refused. He carried you in his arms, Peter, and he laid you on the bed as gently as one would place a baby in its crib. And then he sat on the bed with you and kept a damp cloth on your forehead and held you until you fell asleep."

Pete was stunned. The idea of Nick caring for him that way made his stomach twist.

"Is that not love, Peter?"

"Look, Karvaly, all I was asking about you and Imre is whether you are gay."

"We may not be happy all of the time, as life is sometimes hard in our country. But, yes, we are gay more often than we are unhappy."

This was driving Pete insane.

"No, Karvaly, look. You and Imre, you are more than best friends, right? You have sex, right? That's what I mean by gay."

"Oh! I see!" said Karvaly. "You mean 'gay' as they do on television. No, Imre and I are not gay."

"But you two ... I mean I saw you ..." sputtered Pete in return.

"Imre and I have--what is the word ... fucking? Yes! We make fucking. But we are not gay homosexuals."

"But, if the two of you have sex, then you are gay."

Karvaly sighed in confusion.

"I do not understand what you mean by gay, I think, Peter."

Pete was at the end of his rope.

"What I mean is that if the two of you kiss, and you suck each other's dicks, and you fuck each other in the ass, that means you're gay. Gay means that you do with Imre what normal men do with women."

Karvaly stiffened in his sleeping bag, offended.

"Peter, Imre and I are normal men. We want to marry one day."

"See, that's what we call 'gay marriage,' and it means that you keep fucking Imre into old age." Pete thought for a moment. "Do they allow that here?"

Karvaly laughed. "Men marrying each other? I have heard of such things in other countries, but that is not what we want. No, we will marry women, when we are older."

"Why?"

"Because we love women. We want families. I want my children to grow up with Imre's children."

"But if you love Imre, and you have sex with him, why are you going to marry a woman?"

"Because that is what people do."

"Not gay people."

Karvaly sighed. He was beginning to think that the American school system had failed its charges in more than just mathematics.

"Peter, do you love women?"

"Yes," came the reply, before Karvaly had even finished the question.

"Yes," repeated Karvaly. "And have you had sex with women?"

"Yes," answered Pete, "a couple, anyway."

"And Nicholas, has he had sex with women?"

"A lot, to hear him tell it."

"These women that you have had sex with--did you love them?"

Pete considered this for a moment.

"Well, one of them, I guess. I thought so at the time, anyway."

"And Nicholas, do you think he loved every women he has had sex with?"

"I'm not sure Nick loves anyone who isn't him."

"This is what I do not understand. You and Nicholas have had sex with many women, with no love. And yet you will someday marry a woman, whom you love. Imre and I, we have sex, and we love each other. One day we will each find a woman to love, and have sex with her. For us sex and love go together. For you, they do not, but someday they will, of a sudden? This I do not understand."

"But sex with women is different."

"Yes, I imagine it is. I have never had sex with a woman. Tell me, what happens to all of those women who have sex with you and Nicholas? Will they find someone to marry, once they have lost their ... their ... what is the word?"

"Virginity?"

"Yes, virginity. Once they have lost that, can they ever be married?"

"Of course."

"Ah. In our country, women who have sex without being married are sent to the convent. No one will marry them."

So that explains Nick's success with the Sisters of Valedictory Fellatio, thought Pete.

"But, Karvaly, in the US we don't require women to be virgins in order to get married. That would be medieval."

"Peter, we do not expect it just of women. Imre and I have never had sex with a woman. We have only each other. I will be a virgin on my wedding day, and so will my wife."

"But you'll have had sex with Imre. Doesn't that count?"

"I do not know what you mean. I have sex with Imre because it keeps me from threatening the virtue of the women I know, and my own. I will love two people in my life, Imre and my wife."

This was all too much for Pete.

"I need to get some air," he mumbled, and he slipped out of his bag and through the flap of the tent.

There was an unexpected chill in the air as Pete stepped out of the tent; the moon that had lit their campsite an hour ago was obscured now and then by heavy clouds, and the wind was whistling in the trees. This, Pete remembered, was why no one camped this high in the mountains in August: sudden storms could sweep through without warning, dropping short-lived but still shocking drifts of snow.

But his need to get away from the tent, from this strange man and his mixed-up ideas about sex and love and marriage, overwhelmed his hesitation about the weather. As he walked past the cold fire pit, he could hear giggling and the rustling of sleeping bags coming from the other tent, where Nick and Imre were supposed to be sleeping but clearly weren't. What were they doing? Pete didn't want to know, didn't want to think about it, and so he stomped away toward the lake.

The wind was definitely up now, and Pete was dressed only in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot. He shivered slightly as he stood watching the wind make patterns on the surface of the water in the broken moonlight. He tried to think.

What the hell was wrong with everyone? What was wrong with him? Why did everyone have some bizarre relationship with sex that he couldn't even imagine? Nick wielding his body like a weapon to make money or to turn Mr. Patronus into a drooling idiot, Imre and Karvaly having wild sex with each other in the interest of sexual purity, all of those uncut cocks bobbing in the pool at the baths. How did all of these people figure out what they wanted? When would Pete figure out what he wanted? Why did this all have to be so complicated?

He stewed on this for a while, then realized that what he had thought were insects bumping against him was actually something falling from the sky--sleet? rain? snow? Whatever it was it was cold, and he shivered over this entire body. Suddenly the wind roared and he was wet through with icy water, his hair plastered to his head. He turned and ran back to the tent as quickly as he could in the stormy darkness, guided by the lantern that Karvaly had placed outside the flap.

He threw himself into the tent, seizing with the cold. Karvaly sat up in his sleeping bag and began drying him roughly with a towel, but the shivering simply wouldn't stop.

"Come," said Karvaly, "Take off these clothes. They are soaked and you cannot warm yourself wearing them."

Pete was too cold, inside and out, to argue, and he pulled his shirt off over his head. With shaking hands he tried to unbutton his shorts, but could not get his fingers to work properly. Karvaly pushed his hands away and worked the fly open himself, and with one strong yank he pulled Pete's shorts and underwear down and off. Then he unzipped his sleeping bag, sliding the zipper down the length of his legs to his feet, and held it open.

"Come, Peter, this is the only way to get warm again."

Pete stopped shivering for just a second to see Karvaly clearly in the dim lantern light. He was naked, of course, and so warm, and his arms were open wide, and without thinking any more about it he rolled over into the bag, his back against Karvaly's chest, their feet tangled together.

Karvaly closed the bag over them, and then reached down and zipped it up. Having done so, he left his arm draped over Pete, who shivered less and less as Karvaly's warmth swaddled him from head to toe. Exhausted, he drifted toward sleep.

"Thank you, Karvaly," he murmured, then began breathing the deep breaths of sleep.

"You are welcome, my friend," murmured Karvaly, just as softly, and then he kissed Pete on the head. "Sleep well."

CHAPTER EIGHT

The morning brought the crackling of a campfire, the hushed but happy voices of Imre and Nick warming themselves. The sun shone through the fabric of the tent over Pete's head, and as he adjusted to the light he reveled in the warmth of his sleeping bag wrapped tightly around him. It wasn't, of course, his sleeping bag. It wasn't even Karvaly's sleeping bag that was so warm. It was Karvaly himself, whose arms were still around Pete, whose chest pressed and relaxed in slow cadence against his back, whose legs were entwined with his. And what, Pete wondered, was that knot of heat pressed against the small of his back? Oh. My. God.